I’ve never been so close to death that I could smell his duds,
But I imagine their bouquet is somewhat like wet spuds.
And yet as I grow older I sense someone just beyond
My ken who waits there for me with his sharp and twisted wand.
Each day I scan the obits for the years allowed to each
Man or women prior to their capture by the Breach.
As I approach the watershed of years where death begins
His game in earnest, I’m aware he only ever wins.
The odds are stacked against me and I might as well confess
That all the coin I’ve paid the docs won’t give me much success.
But still I think it’s worth it to give death as wide a berth
As I can manage on this large and variegated earth.
He won’t catch me too easy, and I’ll haggle till I’m blue --
And I’ll be damned if he finds me just waiting in a queue!
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